Seven Inches from the Midday Sun
by Writer25
Summary: When a stupid prank goes wrong, Arnold has to volunteer at a dance studio or else face the ire of an intimidating dance instructor. But with two left feet, Arnold is forced to pair with the best dancer in class who happens to be a fiery blonde with an attitude problem. Tension and passion ignite and Arnold could be consumed completely. If he survives that is.
1. Chapter 1

High tops were not made to run in. Arnold wished he had known this earlier. Maybe then he could have saved his poor throbbing ankles. But he didn't have the breath to even complain as he ran through the streets behind Gerald, Harold, Stinky, and Sid. What was left of their eggs fell out of their shirts and hoodies and splattered on the sidewalk.

"You boys, freeze!" The officer yelled at them as the sirens blared, "Halt! Immediately!"

Long standing obedience almost made Arnold pause, but fear kept his feet running. Panic had a choke hold on him, making the blood pound inside his head. How did this happen? Why was this happening? He could have been home; watching a movie with grandpa, playing poker with grandma, surfing the internet or even doing his homework. How did he end up running from the cops?

"Left! Into the alleyway!" Gerald called up ahead before making a sharp turn and disappearing.

One after the other they ran after him, Arnold starting to lag even behind Harold. The sirens were beginning to close in on them and the officer was hot on their trail, still yelling for them to stop. A tall fence loomed ahead, practically promising their capture. But without breaking stride, Gerald jumped on top of a dumpster, leaped onto the fence and began climbing. Stinky, one of the tallest guys in school, didn't need to jump off the dumpster to get an advantage. Sid followed Gerald's example, using the bottom of the fire escape to reach the top of the fence in one leap. Even Harold, a 5'11 solid wall of muscle and fat, managed to leap on and climb over the fence in record speed.

 _If they can make, it so can I. If they can make, it so can I._ Arnold repeated to himself, hoping to gain some false confidence.

Emphasis on false.

He tripped over his own shoelaces. Just as he started to jump after his friends and towards his freedom, his foot inexplicitly got caught in his own shoelaces and he fell flat on his face. The breath left Arnold's body as he crashed down onto the concrete and he tasted copper in his mouth.

"Arnold!" he heard Gerald shout, but it was quickly drowned out by the blare of sirens and angry, stomping feet. He sat up only to be blinded by the cops' flashlights. This was it, he was going to get arrested, go to jail, and spend the rest of his life chipping at rocks or making license plates.

And all Arnold could think was, _Why did I ever listen to my so-called friends?_

* * *

Ten Hours Earlier:

The hallways were as crowded as usual in between class changes. But no matter how crowded it was, there seemed to be a natural part as Arnold walked with Gerald to their lockers. They didn't have to ask or push through, everyone just seemed naturally moved out their way. Gerald always had this natural swagger and confidence though that you couldn't help but notice. Five-foot-eleven, and well built, Gerald stood out in a crowd with natural looks and charm. As he walked, he had a smile and a nod for everyone. It was something that Arnold always liked about him. Conceited as he was sometimes, Gerald was rarely rude. At least, not to the person's face. Arnold, on the other hand, considered himself more average. He felt like he was nice enough and had plenty of good friends, but he didn't think he really stood out.

"You know what your problem is, man?" Gerald nudged Arnold, "you never do anything with your life."

"Really?" Arnold blinked and looked him, "What's that supposed to mean?"

Gerald's smirk increased, "You know what I mean, bro. In my years of knowing you, you've always been the good guy. The guy who follows the rules only makes the best choices. The riskiest thing you've ever done is order extra bacon on your burger. And I think it's time we changed that."

Arnold sighed and rolled his eyes, "Gerald, not again…"

"No seriously, you're too good for your own good," Gerald persisted with a smirk, "you know, everyone calls you Two-Shoes Shortman for a reason."

Arnold scoffed and opened his locker to put his books inside before they headed to the cafeteria. He loved Gerald like a brother, but his input on how to improve his life was getting a bit old. It was something he was used to though. He was the same way; constantly trying to get Gerald to do more good deeds and care less about the "it" crowd. Balancing each other's personalities was part of what kept them friends for so long.

Gerald punched his arm to get his attention, "Are you even listening to me? I'm trying to give you good advice."

"And your advice is for me to start breaking rules?" Arnold laughed, "Thanks, Gerald, but I think I'd rather accept my Two-Shoes title proudly than risk getting into trouble."

"Who said anything about getting into trouble? Just a little… harmless rule breaking."

Gerald's eyes twinkled in a way that set off mild warning bells in Arnold's head. He started to frown, but then Gerald gave him that famous disarming friendly smile and draped his arms around his shoulders as they started walking again.

"Just come out with me and the guys tonight," Gerald practically begged, "it's going to be awesome and you'll be sorry if you miss it."

"Maybe," Arnold relented, "but no promises."

Gerald grinned and slapped him on the back, "Thatta boy!"

Arnold rolled his eyes, but couldn't help but smile at his best friend's enthusiasm. If anything, at least now he had something to do tonight. Earlier, his only plans consisted of homework and gin rummy with grandpa. A loud chorus of giggles sounded from down the hall, distracting his attention. Beside him, Gerald suddenly straightened up and plastered his signature "lady-killer" smile on his face.

"Here come the ladies," he said in a low voice to Arnold, "I hear Rhonda's been asking about you."

"Really? Why?"

Before Gerald had a chance to respond, the sound of heels got closer until Rhonda Lloyd and her posse rounded the corner. They walked in a literal formation, headed of course by Rhonda herself, the only one who even attempted to walk beside her was her best friend Nadine. The rest of the girls followed at a respectful half pace behind them.

"Dang, Rhonda looks good," Gerald nodded approvingly, "I don't know how that girl stays single."

"Maybe because she hasn't found anyone special yet?" Arnold shrugged indifferently, "Can we go the cafeteria now? I'm getting hungry and the rest of the guys are probably waiting for us."

"Hey, Gerald. Arnold. You two are looking well today."

Rhonda stopped in front of them, openly appraising them. Her eyes then settled on Arnold and her red glossy lips parted in a smile.

"Arnold, that shirt is absolutely darling on you," she reached up and laid a hand on his chest, feeling the material between her fingers, "Is it new?"

"Um, no… I wore it last week," Arnold smiled politely but gently dislodged her fingers from his shirt, "Gerald and I were just heading to lunch. Would you like to join us?"

"You mean, eat that garbage they force feed us?" Rhonda's lips curled down in disgust, "No thanks. But… call me if you want to do a real dinner."

Rhonda then gave him a small wink and with a snap of her fingers, her posse followed as she continued her trek down the hallway. Arnold breathed a sigh of relief and sagged against his locker. Talking to Rhonda was two parts intimidating and one part exhausting. Gerald gave a low whistle and punched his arm.

"Arnold, you dog you," Gerald grinned, "You are one lucky guy."

"No Gerald, I am one hungry guy," Arnold sighed in impatience, "Can we get some food now or what?"

Gerald gave an impatient sigh of his own, "Do I really have to spell it out for you? Rhonda wants you to ask her out!"

"Oh no, I got that. She wasn't very subtle."

"She shouldn't have to be. She's Rhonda Wellington Lloyd!"

Arnold rolled his eyes and started walking, "I'm getting lunch without you, Gerald."

He barely moved away a few feet though when he tripped on nothing and crashed into someone on his way down. They both shouted in surprise and pain as they collided. Books and papers flew everywhere as Arnold landed hard in a painful tangle of knees and elbows.

"Owwww," Arnold groaned and struggle to untangle himself, "Sorry, I-"

"Why don't you watch where you're going?!" The person underneath him elbowed him hard, knocking Arnold hard into the linoleum floor. Once the stars in his vision cleared, Arnold's first reaction was to get angry, but he swallowed it down, owning up to the fact that he was the one who tripped and knocked them over. He looked over to apologize, feeling even worse when he realized that he had knocked over a girl. She was wearing baggy jeans and a dark hoodie. The hood was pulled up making it hard to see her face, but it wasn't hard to see her dark scowl. She wasn't even looking at him, focusing instead on gathering up her scattered things.

"Oh geez, I'm really, really sorry," Arnold apologized, "It was all my fault and-"

"Darn right it was your fault!" She snatched the remaining papers from his hands and stood up, quickly moving away from him. "Next time, don't be such a klutz!" She yelled over her shoulder.

Gerald appeared by Arnold's side and helped him to his feet. He glared at the girl's quickly retreating back and called after her, "Oh yeah, how about next time you don't act like such a witch about it!?"

Without bothering to turn around, the girl responded with a raised middle finger. She stomped down the hall and students scurried to get out of her way. Gerald mumbled some choice words under his breath, but Arnold decided to let it go. He for one never saw the point in staying angry at strangers. By the time he and Gerald reached the cafeteria and got their lunches, Sid, Stinky, and Harold were already at their usual table waiting for them.

Sid was one the track team with Gerald and always seemed to be on the fringes of almost everyone's social circle. Any party that was thrown, Sid seemed to know about it about the same time as Gerald. Even though Stinky lived in the city for almost ten years now, he still somehow retained his country accent. Tallest guy in the school and forward on the basketball team though, no one made fun of him for it much. Harold was the biggest and the bulkiest of their group, which earned him a spot on the football team. Arnold was the only one of their group that wasn't in any sports.

"Sorry we're late fellas," Gerald said sitting down, "We almost had an altercation with some nasty chick in the hallway."

"Gerald," Arnold gave him an annoyed look, "I ran into her, and it wasn't like she was the only reason why we were late, remember?"

"Who cares why you guys were late!" Sid interrupted, high strung as usual, "all I care about is whether we're still doing…" He paused and leaned forward, looking around as if to make sure that no one was listening in on them before he continued, "you know… that thing we have planned for tonight."

"We better, I already got the four dozen eggs," Harold cast a suspicious glance at Arnold, "He's not going to snitch, is he?"

"Arnold ain't no snitch," Gerald shot him a glare, "A total boy scout, but not a snitch. Besides, he's in this with us."

"I um… never totally said that…" Arnold picked at his spaghetti, starting to feel annoyed with them all. When he glanced up he noticed that they were all exchanging looks. "What?"

Stinky rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly and spoke first, "Arnold, you know we like you and all that. Heck, the whole school thinks you're a great person but…"

"We'd kinda knew you'd bail," Sid interrupted bluntly, "when it comes to stuff like this, you're kind of like white rice and vanilla ice cream. Safe and boring. Which isn't a bad thing-"

"I'm not boring!" Arnold looked around the table in shock, "Who said I was boring?"

They all exchanged looks again and Arnold could feel his face growing hot from embarrassment and irritation. "I'm not boring!"

"Are too! The riskiest thing you've ever done is cross the street without a crossing guard!" Harold mocked with a loud laugh earning a snicker from the table.

"I am not boring!" Arnold declared, "And to prove it, I'm coming with you guys tonight! Whatever you're planning, I'm in."

"That's my boy!" Gerald grinned ear to ear and clapped him on the back, "Told you guys he was cool."

Arnold let out a long breath and shoveled more food into his mouth, swallowing it along with any regrets. If he backed out now, his boring goody-two-shoes persona could stick for good. Besides, the guys might be a little rowdy sometimes, but they weren't criminals. Whatever they were planning couldn't be that bad, could it?

It could.

The risky thing that Gerald and the guys was a literal criminal offense. Arnold should have known that when Gerald texted him at home and told him to meet them in the back of a store at midnight wearing all black. Anxiety twisted his stomach all evening but at eleven-fifty-five Arnold put on a black sweater, dark jeans, and black high-tops. Sneaking out of the house wasn't hard either. The borders were in their rooms for the night and his grandpa would be in his private bathroom for the next hour or so. By the time he made it to the appointed spot, Gerald, Sid, Stinky, and Harold were already there with several cartons of eggs in their hands. Gerald smiled when he spotted him and waved him over.

"Told you guys he would show," Gerald said proudly, "Now let's get this party started."

Arnold eyed the eggs suspiciously and frowned, "Don't tell me-"

"We're egging my stupid neighbor's house," Sid crowed with excitement, "He's been a pain in my butt for a month and it's time to send him a message."

"I am not egging someone's house!" Arnold shook his head in exasperation, "Maybe if you sat down with your neighbor and talked to him-"

"And maybe you can go back home and have your grandma bake you some cookies," Harold taunted him, "Or are you not allowed to have sweets after your bedtime?"

Arnold narrowed his eyes, "Fine, I'll come. But I'm not throwing any eggs."

"Let's just go already before morning," Gerald said impatiently, "Sid, lead the way."

Even though there were still plenty of people out late at night, no one seemed to pay attention to five boys dressed in all black carrying eggs. The foot traffic began to clear out towards Sid's neighborhood, Arnold felt his courage beginning to ebb. He had been half hoping that an adult would realize what they were up to and stop them. But there was no such luck as they finally reached the house Sid wanted to exact his revenge on. The house in front of them was small and shabby, making Arnold feel even worse. The poor man's house was already a mess; eggs would probably be an improvement at this point. But the guys were practically shaking with excitement as they opened their cartons and got their eggs ready.

"Okay, on my count," Sid whispered, "One… two… three!"

The words barely left his mouth before the guys unleashed a torrent of eggs at the stranger's house. The eggs exploded against the painted wood and the door leaving clear and yellow splatters everywhere. Forgetting the need to be quiet, the guys laughed and whooped at each messy impact. But suddenly, a light came on inside the house and an angry voice began shouting.

"Hey! Who's out there!?"

"Suck on these, Mr. Walters!" Sid yelled and continued to throw more eggs.

"Guys, shouldn't we go now?" Arnold whispered in alarm.

Gerald glanced over at him and frowned, "Arnold, you haven't thrown a single egg! Come on man, where's your sense of humor?"

"You hooligans are going to pay for this senseless vandalism!"

"Oh I'm sorry, I think I left it with him!"

"Come on Arnold, you got to throw one," Stinky insisted throwing two eggs at a time. They hit the door in rapid succession, "It's fun!"

"And we're not leaving until you do!"

Arnold could feel his heart pounding in his throat and sweat was beginning to pool under his arms. He could practically imagine hearing the man's footsteps as he stomped down the stairs and sirens began to sound in the distance. And as the sirens got closer, the panic began to swell. Do it, be a criminal. Don't do it, be a scoop of vanilla ice cream forever.

"Arnold!"

"Give me that!" Arnold snatched an egg and hurled it at the door just as the man opened it. Everyone stopped and watched it sail through the air, nowhere near the door, and crash through the window. There was a collective gasp and they all looked at Arnold and back at the broken window. No one moved or breathed. Then the sirens rounded the corner.

"Ruuuun!" Sid shouted and took off, and everyone else a split second later.

Then there was the alleyway, the fence, and Arnold's face against the sidewalk. He could taste blood in his mouth as he sat up and was immediately blinded by the cops' flashlights. He didn't bother looking around for his friends. He knew they were long gone and he wasn't even sure if he could blame them.

"Alright son, on your feet."

The blinding light finally moved out of Arnold's face and he found himself looking up sheepishly at two stern looking cops, a man, and a woman. Arnold held up his hands in a gesture of surrender and was hoisted up by his elbows.

"I-I'm really sorry," Arnold pleaded, "I-I didn't mean to-"

"Save it for the station kid," One of the cops cut him off and pulled out a pair of handcuffs, "I hate doing this to a kid, but we gotta follow procedure."

Arnold swallowed thickly, but obediently put his hands behind his back and allowed the handcuffs to be secured on his wrists without a struggle. The ominous click sounded so final that for a minute tears beaded in Arnold's eyes. This was it. Goodbye college, goodbye future. He was now a criminal and would be for the rest of his life. Arnold was helped into the back of the police car and the officers settled themselves in the front seats. As one adjusted his mirrors and prepared to back out, he glanced at Arnold in the rear-view mirror.

"Hey kid, don't look so hangdog," He chuckled, "you ain't going to the big house."

Arnold looked up in surprise, "I'm not?"

But the second officer elbowed her partner in the side, "We can't promise that until we know if the man decides if he wants to press charges or not."

"It was just a prank," Arnold pleaded desperately, "we- I mean, I didn't mean to break the window. It was an accident!"

"Oh yeah? Tell it to the judge!" The officers then began to laugh as like it was the funniest joke in the world.

Arnold sat for the rest of the ride in terrified silence. He had never been arrested before and didn't have any clue what was going to happen to him. Breaking windows and egging were both criminal offenses. The law wasn't too severe, but what if this went on some file somewhere? What would his grandparents think? Arnold had been planning on applying to colleges in another year; would the admissions board even take a second glance at his application with a criminal charge under his name? His lower lip was beginning to feel numb and he didn't need a mirror to tell it was busted. Arnold closed his eyes and leaned his head against the glass. The only bright side to all this was that at least no one could call him boring anymore.

The police station wasn't as crowded as he thought it would be. Arnold sat at a chair next to one of the arresting officer's desk. He had been given ice to hold to his lip and had a cup of untouched coffee. The officer barely paid any attention to him as he typed up a report. When Arnold craned his neck a little to the left he could see the other officer in a room with a man who Arnold assumed was Mr. Walters. Even though he couldn't hear what he was being said, Arnold could see by Mr. Walters's stance be was furious. He looked like he was around forty with tight weathered, dark skin and oiled black hair receding from his forehead. He was leaning on a cane making Arnold feel even worse for what he did.

"Attica! Attica! Attica!"

There was a collective groan in the police station as an all too familiar cry sounded. Arnold sunk lower in his seat as his grandma marched into the police station holding a hand painted, "Free Arnold!" sign in her hands. Several officers immediately rushed over to head her off while his grandpa came up behind her and waved them all off.

"Alright, calm down, calm down," Grandpa Phil said in clear annoyance, "Now where's my grandson?"

Arnold weakly raised his head and waved, "Right here, grandpa."

"Shortman, what's all this about?" Phil peered closer at his lip, "you get into a street fight or something? Rob a bank?"

"Sir, I'm Officer Bennet," The officer stood up to address Phil directly, "your grandson and his friends vandalized a man's house tonight. The other boys ran off before we could identify them, but we managed to catch him. He busted his lip trying to escape."

"I tripped and fell," Arnold explained weakly.

"Yep, the Shortman Clumsiness Curse strikes again," Grandpa Phil chuckled and stroked his chin. "So what's going to happen now? I'm an old man and I can't be staying up at all hours while you play cops and robbers with my grandson."

The officer nodded and glanced down at Arnold, "Well since Mr. Shortman refuses to name his friends in this little prank, we're waiting to see if Mr. Walters wants to press charges against him."

"Which I am sorely tempted to do," Mr. Walters stepped out of the room and slowly approached them.

Arnold swallowed thickly and started to slump down in his seat which only seemed to make Mr. Walters angrier. He snapped his cane against the legs of his chair making Arnold jump and sit up straight.

"So, you're one of the hooligans who eggs my house and broke my window." Mr. Walters looked down at him, "You don't look like a thug but looks can be deceiving."

Arnold hung his head in shame, "Sir, I am so, so sorry. I promise I'll pay for the window and clean all the egg off your house. I'll even clean your house for you if you want."

"Boy, lift your head up when you talk to an adult."

Arnold did what he said and found Mr. Walters staring down at him with a thoughtful look on his face. He couldn't read his expression and wondered vaguely if he was going to whack him with the cane.

"Hmm, stand up boy," Mr. Walters ordered instead and when he did, he began to circle him, tapping his finger against his can thoughtfully. "How tall are you and how much do you weigh, son?"

"Um, five-eleven, a hundred and ten pounds I think," Arnold fidgeted nervously, "Why are you asking?"

Mr. Walters didn't answer him, "You and your friends made quite a mess of my house. And I don't have the money to pay for no handymen."

"I can do whatever you need me to, sir," Arnold said eagerly. At least he could make up for destroying a man's house.

"Excellent," Mr. Walters nodded but didn't smile, "you can report to my studio tomorrow at five o'clock sharp and I'll be happy to drop all charges. Now if you'll excuse me, I have some interrupted sleep to continue."

He then gestured for them to step out of his way and he strode out of the station. Arnold sighed in relief. All he had to do was help clean up around some studio after school and he would be off the hook for this stupid prank. This was the time he would do something so stupid.


	2. Chapter 2

An ugly, dark purple bruise marred the edge of his upper lip, but at least the swelling had gone down. Arnold tilted his head to further examine his reflection and delicately poked at his wounded lip.

"I can't believe grandma's avocado, tuna, and rice milk poultice worked," He mused, "it doesn't even hurt anymore."

Arnold leaned a little away from the mirror to scrutinize the rest of his reflection. The fall hadn't done too much damage other than busting his lip so that was good. He didn't need everyone at school asking him a bunch of questions about his face. Because he definitely didn't want anyone knowing that he got busted up falling flat on his face. Hopefully, Gerald and the other guys wouldn't make too much of a big deal about it either.

"Hey Shortman, you almost done in there?" Grandpa Phil knocked on the bathroom door. "The hot water heater's out again and I could use your help in fixing it before you leave."

Arnold sighed inwardly and glanced at his watch. It was nearly seven-fifteen, too early to rush off to school but if he got held up for too long he would be late. But his grandfather was getting older and it couldn't be easy running the boarding house by himself.

"Shortman?"

"Coming, Grandpa!"

Arnold promptly left the bathroom and headed downstairs to the boiler room all the way in the basement. As he hurried through the boarding house the tenants either greeting him with either a friendly good morning or a complaint. A lick of irritation touched him but he quickly tampered it down. Regardless of the type of greeting he got, he answered all of them with a half-hearted wave and a smile. He reached the boiler room out of breath and grabbed the tool belt from the shelf. The water heater was sat in the corner, one of its pipes rattling loudly and dripping water. Fifteen minutes and half a heat blister later, it was as fixed as it was going to be. Arnold wiped the sweat off his forehead and checked his watch. Yep, now he had to sprint if he wanted to make it to school on time.

"Yo Arnie!"

Arnold suppressed a groan and looked up to see Mr. Potts peering at him from up the stairs wearing nothing but a towel.

"You almost done with that water heater?" he asked impatiently, "I gotta head to work soon!"

 _Yeah, and I have to head to school. Fifteen minutes ago,_ Arnold wanted to retort but he swallowed the words and smiled instead, "I just finished Mr. Potts. It should be working now."

"Well that's a relief, you would think that the old man would have coughed up the dough for a new one by now," Mr. Potts grumbled walking back up the steps.

Arnold waited until he heard the door close again before letting his smile drop into a frown. He loved the boarders and all, but sometimes he couldn't take their complaining or their nagging. His grandfather sure wasn't shy about complaining about their complaining, but it's not like that solves anything. Arnold only shook his head and pulled out his cell phone, dialing Gerald's number.

"Hey Gerald, do you mind picking me up?" Arnold paused as he waited for Gerald's usual smart remark, "because my grandfather can't run this boarding house by himself. Now can you pick me up please?"

Arnold met Gerald out on his porch as he pulled up in his car. He didn't seem to be worried about the two of them being late even through Arnold was starting to get impatient.

"You trying to make us both late, man?" Gerald laughed as Arnold slid into the passenger seat, "This is like the third time this happened."

"My grandfather needs help and it's not like the boarders pull any weight," Arnold responded but then quickly added, "I mean, they're probably busy."

Gerald gave him an odd look but only focused on the road and drove them to school. Gerald expertly maneuvered through the parking lot looking for an open spot. The best spots had already been taken by the seniors of course but they weren't exactly ordinary juniors either.

"Hey there's a spot," Arnold pointed out one near the library, "maybe we could- oh wait, never mind. It looks like someone else is about to take it. We can find another one."

Gerald only smiled and pressed on the gas a little more though, "no need my friend. No need."

Their car reeved forward a bit and at the sound of Gerald's engine the driver of the other car slammed on brakes and immediately backed out of the spot. Gerald shot him a smile and a wave which the other kid returned.

Arnold whistled in surprise, "Wow, that was really nice of that kid. You guys know each other?"

"Um... something like that."

They made it to their lockers and homeroom just barely in time for the bell. Sitting beside him, Gerald seemed to finally take notice of his lip. He roughly grabbed his chin and turned his face to look at it.

"Man, that's some bruise you got," Gerald peered at his lip with a mixture of admiration and disgust, "I'm surprised you didn't lose a tooth with that face plant of yours."

"Har-de har har," Arnold rolled his eyes and knocked his hand away.

"No seriously, it looks cool. We should tell everyone that you beat up a mugger."

"Or the truth." Arnold mumbled, slouching in his seat a little, "I let my friends talk me into something very stupid."

Gerald laughed, "it was funny and you know it. Stop being such a downer man."

Arnold pressed his lips together and immediately hissed in pain. During the next couple of classes, he had a hard time concentrating. Not that was anything new. It wasn't that he was a brainiac and breezed through the material. The teachers he had just tended to be a little boring. It didn't help that kids kept staring at his mouth. The braver ones even passed him a note asking him what happened. There were even rumors that some of the girls were trying to circulate a card for everyone to sign. Some sort of weird sympathy, get well soon, hybrid. All this Arnold tried to take in stride. He told everyone that he just tripped and fell, sympathetic inquiries he politely waved off. It was no small relief when the bell for lunch finally rang. As routine he met Gerald at their lockers.

"You tripped and fell? Seriously?" Gerald whined before Arnold could get two words out, "Talk about a waste of an injury. I told you to make up a cool story!"

Arnold shook his head but couldn't help but smile. He hadn't seen him in over two hours but of course the power of the high school rumor mill had reached him.

"You're lucky I don't tell everyone the truth," Arnold teased him playfully.

"Pfft, go ahead, Sid's been bragging all day," Gerald scoffed, "he even tried to hit up some cheerleaders. Like that type of foolishness would impress them."

"Foolishness? Aren't you the one who-"

"Foolishness to _them,_ " Gerald clarified quickly, "trust me, I know how ladies think."

Arnold rolled his eyes and muttered under his breath, "Is that why you're on girlfriend number three this year?"

Gerald turned to him with genuine confusion on his face, "Sorry, I didn't hear you. What did you say?"

For a moment, Arnold was tempted to repeat himself but the moment passed and he only smiled, "Nothing important. Come on, let's meet the others."

* * *

After they exited the lunch line, they made their way to their table. Arnold prepared himself for the guys' prison jokes and embellishments on what happened last night. What he got was something totally different.

"Did you rat on us?" Harold accused him before he had so much as set down his tray.

"What?" Arnold blinked in shock.

"He probably cracked like a rotten egg," Sid scowled, "Look at his lip. The cop probably took one swing at him and he sang like a canary."

"He didn't snitch on us guys," Gerald was swift to defend him, "Right, Arnold? Tell them."

At first Arnold was too stunned to answer. Harold, Sid, and even Stinky were giving him suspicious looks. Wasn't he the one who warned them that this was a bad idea? More importantly, weren't they the ones who goaded him into going? Arnold's heart began pounding in his throat and his hand curled into a fist under the table. But he forced himself to take a breath and relax his fist again.

"No, of course not," He answered tightly, swallowing his annoyance. "As a matter of fact, I'm going to be working for Mr. Walters after school in exchange for getting the charges dropped."

The guys' suspicious glares instantly relaxed into looks of relief. Stinky even shook his head and gave him a pitying look.

"That really bites Arnold, but we're awfully grateful that you're taking the fall for us all," he drawled.

But Gerald snickered, "He wouldn't have to though if he knew how to climb a fence."

The four of them joined in laughing and Arnold laughed too just to play along. Thankfully the conversation finally moved away to another topic. This allowed him to paste a smile on his face and nod every now and then while letting his mind wander. Some of the girls joined them filling their table with laughter and conversation. Slowly, Arnold felt himself relaxing and became more active in participating.

"So Arnold, what happened to your lip?" Nadine gave him a curious look, "Everyone is talking about it. Did you get mugged?"

"Ha ha no, I-"

"Had a run in with the cops," Gerald interrupted with a sly wink, "Sid, set the scene for me man."

Sid cleared his throat and waited until he had everyone's attention before beginning. Arnold only half listened as Sid painted Mr. Walters as an evil sadist and himself as an innocent victim. Gerald took over, embellishing the tale even more to make themselves sound like rebellious anti-heroes seeking justice instead of just juvenile vengeance. And when Gerald mentioned Arnold's part (making his fall sound like a supreme sacrifice instead of a tremendous blunder), all eyes turned on him.

"Arnold, _you_ were there?" Nadine stared at him slack jawed, "Arnold Shortman, participating in an egging? You sure you didn't just go there to stop them and make peace?"

He rolled his eyes, "No, but I probably should have."

"I don't know, Arnold the bad boy sounds kind of sexy," Rhonda purred.

The table started laughing and Arnold forced himself to laugh along with them again. Sometimes he honestly couldn't tell if Rhonda was genuinely flirting with him or just making fun of him. The lunch bell rang and everyone in the cafeteria exited into the hallway, quickly making it crowded. Arnold listened to Sid and Gerald talk about their upcoming track meet and realized that any after school activities he would have would have to wait for a while. He didn't even know how long he would have to work for Mr. Walters. Would he be working until he paid off the cost of the window? He almost hoped so, or this arrangement could have no end.

* * *

Five-fifteen saw Arnold running down the street, panting and his ankles throbbing. It was too much of a déjà vu moment for him. He shouldn't have stayed with the guys at the arcade for so long. Because now he was late and he doubted Mr. Walters would be too happy with him. A squat, two-story building stood on the corner. It looked almost run down and for a moment Arnold wondered if he had the right place. But it matched the address that he had Googled last night. He ran across the street, nearly getting hit by a car in the process, and paused at the front entrance to catch his breath. When his heart no longer drummed in his ears, he could hear faint snatches of a piano. Above him a window was partly open and figures danced pass.

Inside the lobby was empty but a sign pointed out the locker room down the hall, storage room, and the rehearsal hall upstairs. Not one-hundred percent where he should go, Arnold decided to head upstairs to the rehearsal hall. The faint sounds of the piano grew stronger the higher he went and he could start to hear violin music as well. The landing at the top had a another sign indicating an office down the hall and at first Arnold figured he should go there, but he was a little more curious about the double doors marked "rehearsal hall". What the heck? He was already late and his best bet was the Mr. Walters was already waiting for him inside. Decision made, Arnold opened the door just enough to slip inside.

The rehearsal hall took up most of the second floor. The floor was smooth, polished hard wood, panels of mirrors lined the wall on one side, and another wall had a line of curtained windows. A stereo system played classical dance music in the corner. And there were dancers. They wore pastel leotards with white tights and ballet shoes. Most were girls but there were a couple of guys too. A few of them threw Arnold a curious glance when he entered but they were mostly focused on the dancers in the middle of the floor. Three girls and a guy were dancing with slow, elegant movements in complete synch with one another. They moved well, no wonder why most of the class was watching them. The classical music came to a crescendo, prompting the guy to lift one of the girls into the air, paused as the music peaked, and then lowered her slowly again as the music faded to an end. The rest of the class clapped politely and Arnold clapped as well. When her partner released her, one of the ballerina's shot him a smile. She was petite with short dark hair pulled back in a headband. Arnold returned her smile with polite detachment. He could practically hear Gerald goading him to go over to her, but he knew Mr. Walters would probably be more than a little annoyed if he distracted on of his dancers. The girl must have interpreted his smile as a summons though but her own smile grew and she began to walk over.

"Alright you yahoos, clear out!"

The double doors were roughly pushed open and a new group of dancers came through. The speaker, a tall blonde girl at the forefront of the group, glared around the room and continued yelling.

"You twits deaf? You've hogged the hall long enough haven't you?" She barked.

The ballerinas and some of the new dancers, shot her annoyed looks but no one argued with her. The petite dancer flinched and moved as far away as possible from her. As the ballerinas filed out of the room, Arnold hesitated and pressed himself further back against the wall, wanting to see if these new group of dancers were as good as the last ones. They looked more casual. Instead of leotards they wore a variety of yoga pants, shorts, tanks, and t-shirts. Someone changed the music on the stereo from classical music to a pop radio station and they began stretching and chatting.

"You here to dance or are you just here to stare like a creep?"

Arnold's head shot up in surprise, mildly offended at the accusation. The blonde girl was now standing in front of him. She looked him up and down with sharp blue eyes and her lips were curled in a snarl. There was something vaguely familiar about her, but Arnold couldn't put his finger on it. And had he ever seen eyes that blue before?

"I'm not being a creep," Arnold finally answered her, "Look, I'm supposed to be helping Mr. Walters-"

"At five o'clock sharp, if I remember correctly."

The double doors banged shut again and Mr. Walters himself walked in. Frowning, he walked up to them but turned to the blonde girl. He glared at her, tapping his cane against the floor.

"Helga," He said, "Is there a reason why you're standing here talking and not warming up."

The blonde, Helga, rose her eyebrow and didn't appear phased in the least. "Is there a reason pretty boy is here watching us dance? I thought tryouts were at the end of the month."

Mr. Walters thrust his cane down making a resounding cracking sound on the hard wood floor. The dancers and Arnold flinched but Helga merely rolled her eyes and moved away.

"And you, young man," Mr. Walters turned to Arnold next making him take a step back, "what time does that clock say? There, on the wall. What does it say?"

Arnold lowered his head sheepishly, "I'm really sorry sir, I-"

"What. Time. Is it?"

Repressing his frustration the best he could, Arnold looked up at the clock and noted the time, "Five thirty-eight, sir."

"Five thirty-eight," Mr. Walters echoed, "And what time did you agree to be here?"

"Five o'clock."

"Don't let it happen again."

"Yes, sir," Arnold kept his face neutral even as he felt a muscle in his jaw twitch. He knew he was at fault for being late and for being caught up with the dancers, but did Mr. Walters have to be so condescending?

"Good," Mr. Walters's face relaxed but he still didn't smile, "Now, while my class warms up, let's go over your responsibilities. You will arrive here promptly, _five o'clock sharp_. You are responsible for running errands, needed repairs, and cleaning the studio. You will not disturb my dancers nor distract them. And in the event that I have to leave early, you are responsible for locking up. Do you understand?"

Arnold grimaced. Every responsibility was another hour of his life going down the drain. But what choice did he have? He vandalized the man's house.

"Yes, sir."

"Excellent. You can start by cleaning up those DVDs by that stereo over there while I instruct my class on HOW TO WARM UP PROPERLY." Mr. Walters's voice boomed out as he turned to address the dance students.

Arnold took the opportunity to retreat into the corner and do as he was told. The "DVDs" were a collection of CDs in all varieties of music. Classical, big band, hip hop, and Latin just to name a few. They were all scattered around though, some of the out of their cases. He would have to start with putting them in their cases first before he could organize them. There wasn't a shelf to put them on though. Maybe he should build one as a sign of good faith. Arnold laughed a little under his breath at that. As if he didn't have enough work to do at the boarding house.

"Sharper! Sharper! Are your limbs made of wood!?"

The sharp crack of the cane against the floor made Arnold look up. The dancers were now evenly spaced apart, dancing in tandem, facing the mirrored wall. Mr. Walters was walking back and forth, facing them, appraising every one of their movements with sharp eyes. The dancers' movements were by far something completely different from what Arnold witnessed the ballet dancers perform. They swung their legs and entire bodies in sweeping arches before dropping into a crouch. Then jumping up, arms high before spinning midair and landing. Every moment was quick and graceful, it was clear everyone had been dancing for years. But Mr. Walters wasn't satisfied. He weaved among them, tapping his cane against the ground and critiquing everyone. One girl's back wasn't straight enough. Another guy was jumping too high. Someone else was out of rhythm. Arnold himself didn't see it, but Mr. Walters looked ready to hit him with his cane.

There was only one person Mr. Walters didn't criticize and that was Helga. He watched her just as much, maybe even more, but he never had anything negative to say about it. And Arnold couldn't see how he could. Her movements were powerful, yet her long, toned legs her graceful. Her ponytail whipped across her face with her spins, indicating her speed, but her face remained tranquil. It was like she wasn't even aware of anyone else in the room.

"Young man, you are not here to audit my class," Mr. Walters shouted over at him, "I suggest you turn your eyes back on your work unless you plan on joining them."

Warmth flooded his cheeks and Arnold turned back to the CDs again, "Sorry, Mr. Walters."

* * *

By seven o'clock, Arnold had just about finished with the CDs (all one hundred and twenty of them), and Mr. Walters was wrapping up class. He gave the class notes on improving, mostly berating them, and pressed them to continue focusing on certain moves that they hadn't gotten the hang of yet. Arnold barely listened, itching to go home so he could get started on all the homework waiting for him and get a bite to eat. The dancers began to disperse, barely sparing Arnold a glance as they headed out. No one else seemed inclined to do it, so Arnold reached out to turn the stereo off.

"Leave it on," Mr. Walters waved Arnold away from it though, "Miss Pataki wants to stay late again and you need to sweep up the hall."

Arnold looked over at Helga who was sitting on the floor stretching. A surge of irritation went through him directed at both her and Mr. Walters but Arnold breathed it out.

"I, um, what time do you think I'll be able to go home?" He asked trying to sound casual, "I do have homework to get to."

"And I have a broken window to repair," Mr. Walter replied pointedly, tossing Arnold a set of keys. "The keys are marked and you'll find the broom in the storage room downstairs. See you tomorrow."

And with that, Mr. Walters strode out of the room, leaving Arnold alone with Helga. Arnold took a deep breath and counted backwards from fifty, an old technique he often relied on. When he opened his eyes, Helga was still on the ground stretching. While her legs pointed one direction, her torso was twisted towards the window which she was staring out of, completely ignoring him.

"Um... hey," He called out awkwardly, "I, uh, have to go get something. Will you be okay by yourself-"

"I don't care."

Her response was blunt and curt. She didn't even look at him. She twisted, stretching the opposite direction. Arnold watched her for a minute longer before leaving in search of the storage room.

Without the other students, or even Mr. Walters, the building felt hollow and a bit creepy. Arnold almost superstitiously turned on every light switch that he walked past. Alone with this abrasive girl for who knows how long.

"Maybe she's not that bad," he mused out loud, "I'm practically a stranger who she just met. I'm sure she's not that bad."

The rude way she entered the rehearsal hall said otherwise but Arnold wrote that off too. There were times that he wanted to order a certain boarder or two out of the communal bathroom when they went over their time limit. He was just lucky that he had his own private bathroom. That didn't stop the other boarders from coming to him with complaints though.

Once he retrieved a large sweeper and a dust pan from the storage room, Arnold headed back upstairs, making sure not to turn any of the lights off again. In the rehearsal hall, Helga was still warming up. This time, she was doing continuous pirouettes, spinning on one foot over and over again. Her gaze was steadfast on her reflection in front of her, not giving any indication that she noticed him coming in.

"I'm back," Arnold called anyway.

She ignored him, just like he expected, though her eyes flickered in his direction. Arnold rolled his eyes and started sweeping. He couldn't help looking up to watch her though. He couldn't pinpoint exactly what dance Helga was practicing though. Sometimes she practiced the moves Mr. Walters instructed them in; other times it looked like she was practicing ballet. In any case, Helga's movements were swift and powerful. Arnold had never seen anything like it before.

"You're really good," he complimented her out loud.

"Hmm," she hummed non committedly and slowed to a stop, watching her reflection. She seemed satisfied at what she saw because she nodded and walked over to the stereo.

Arnold silently sighed in relief, "So you need a ride home? It's gotten pretty dark outside."

Helga rose an eyebrow and smirked at him, "Who said I was done?"

When she reached the stereo, kneeled down and began riffling through the CDs Arnold carefully organized. But once she found what she was looking for, she pulled it out, causing the rest in the stack to fall over. Then Helga scoffed, gave him a look to make sure he was watching, swung her foot out, and knocked the rest of them over.

"H-hey!" Arnold yelped in both shock and anger, "I just spent two hours cleaning all those up!"

"Well you did it wrong," Helga rolled her eyes, "you arranged them by year and artist. You need to arrange them by genre and artist, doi. So the different classes can find their music easier."

"And you couldn't have just told me that?!" Arnold cried in exasperation.

"Think of it this way," She smirked, "Now you have something to do until I finish."

After she changed out the music to her chosen CD, a Latin pop one by the sound of it, and moved back to her place to begin dancing. This time her moves had a different edge to them, more intense, fluid, and almost sensual. Arnold dropped the sweeper on the ground, hoping that the loud sound would both startle her and convey his annoyance. Her only reaction was to meet his eyes in the mirror and her smirk turned into a Cheshire grin. Now it was Arnold's turn to roll his eyes and he turned to the stereo to re-rearrange the CDs. He began to feel bad through, especially as he kept watching her, and tried being friendly again.

"So um, have we met before?" He asked, "You look sort of familiar."

Helga stopped so suddenly, he could swear he heard her feet squeak on the hard wood floor. She stood still, her reflection staring at him until he began to fidget uncomfortably.

"I don't know," she said, tersely, "who do you think I am?"

"Um..." Arnold looked at her carefully. Tall, slim, piercing blue eyes, golden blonde hair. Being around cheerleaders, he honestly met many blonde haired, blue eyed beauties but he couldn't recall anyone like her. Especially with her temper and, for lack of better words, rudeness.

"Do we go to school together?" He ventured.

Helga barked out a laugh and for a moment looked angry and offended. But then she tempered her expression into a look of mild annoyance, "Yeah we go the same school. You could even say we... ran into each other before."

"Huh, did we?" Arnold struggled to think, but he couldn't remember seeing her in the cafeteria or any of his classes. "Are you in my... Algebra class?"

"No," Helga replied shortly, turning back to mirror again, "we're not."

Arnold's brow furrowed at her uncooperativeness. He really, really hoped that she wasn't one of the girls he had turned down, but at the same time he knew she was nothing like those girls. Maybe someone Gerald turned down? No way, even someone as smooth as Gerald would have a hard time getting though her tough veneer .

"My name's Arnold," He tried again, hoping to keep up conversation.

Helga glanced at him in the mirror, "You know my name already."

Arnold was confused for a moment until he remembered, "Oh right, Mr. Walters mentioned it. He's um, pretty intense. I think you're the only one not afraid of him. But then again, you're both pretty intense."

"So has anyone told you that you have a football shaped head?"

Arnold dropped the CDs he was holding, sending them clattering onto a pile. He stared at Helga incredulously, shocked at her bluntness.

"Anyone tell you that you're really rude?" He shot off in shock before he could hold himself back.

But Helga giggled, dipping herself so low that she nearly bent backwards, "I've been called worse, football head."

Arnold choked, stammered, and fell silent. He couldn't decide what he felt more of; annoyed, angry, or happy that she laughed.


End file.
